


Mine

by doctorwillowsimmons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Ficlet, Prompt Fill, prompt: mine by taylor swift, reference to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorwillowsimmons/pseuds/doctorwillowsimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill: Taylor Swift's "Mine"</p><p>Skye and Jemma learn how to fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

Jemma really liked to cook. It was so much like science: measurements, temperatures, adjusting the recipe to be just right. It also required preparation, careful thought. Which she loved. It made people like her, and tell her that she did good, which is something she was quite fond of. She found early on that her family, while appreciative of her perfect grades and science fair trophies, was much more vocally appreciative of her cooking.  
Skye, on the other hand, could not cook, and has been known to mess up the simplest things, like ramen. So one valentine’s day, when Skye suggested Jemma give her a cooking lesson, Jemma was delighted. She thought it would be fun, an activity they could do as a couple. Their interests were so different, they rarely found the same things fun. Maybe this was something they could both do.  
It definitely wasn’t. It turned into a mess, with Skye not caring about exact measurements and having no patience, and Jemma enjoying long winded explanations a bit too much (maybe Skye didn’t need to know every single detail about just how the pesto mixes with the whatever in the whatever producing a reaction and whatnot). The tension built up, and it turned into a fight. A big one.  
The food was burned, Jemma was frustrated, angry even, at Skye for not letting herself be taught, for always wanting to do things her way. Jemma was used to being listened to, respected in every way. No one, until Skye, contested her in these sort of things. Skye was annoyed that Jemma had to turn this into some big question of her character, something more then she thought it was.  
And then, somehow, Jemma ended up yelling at Skye about how stressful this job was for her, how stressful it was when Skye went out on missions, how much pressure was on her to heal people, and how she just didn’t think she could do it. She yelled, explaining she wanted out. She wanted out of this whole lifestyle, she wanted to join Fitz in setting up the new academy in Chicago.  
"Jemma- Why wouldn’t you just tell me this? Why did you-"  
"Because I’m afraid of losing you! I’m so afraid of losing you I’m putting myself through hell and I can’t. I can’t anymore. I have spent so much time trying to make you happy, to appease you. You love this job, Skye. You were meant to be a field agent, meant to see the world, meant to live on the edge. I wasn’t. I was meant for a little lab, for teaching a class. I’m just not built like you, Skye." Her eyes welled up, and she grabbed her jacket, leaving, slamming the door behind her. Skye tried, she tried to find the words to make her stay, but she didn’t have them.  
Jemma headed to the pub down the block, ordered herself a beer, and sat there, staring into nothing. Her mind was reeling, she couldn’t piece together how she felt. She had been too mean— it wasn’t fair to expect Skye to know she had been feeling like this. And then she just threw it all at her. She felt sick.  
Well, maybe this was for the best. Maybe this whole thing with Skye wasn’t meant to be. It had seemed so right a year ago, when they kissed that first time. But it wasn’t working out. Maybe they were just two different people who had a connection but were on different paths. Maybe this is why you’re not supposed to date people from your assignments. Jemma hated to give up on things, she hated not working through fights and problems.  
Back at home, Skye sat for maybe twenty minutes, staring off into space. ‘I guess that’s it. I guess she’s going to just leave me.’ Skye couldn’t believe she had been so wrapped up in herself, in her adventures, that she missed this whole thing.  
She began cleaning up the kitchen. She looked at the recipe, and decided to make it, this time doing everything step by step. She followed every instruction and even did all the careful, overattentive things Jemma told her to do. She didn’t know why she was bothering, but this was better than sitting and waiting for Jemma to come home and finish breaking up with her.  
When Skye had learned that the reason she never fit in with a foster family was because there were SHIELD protocols in place, that it wasn’t her fault, she had never been so relieved. Her whole life she thought it was her, she repelled people, she wasn’t good enough. But then she learned it wasn’t like that. It was her bigger family, SHIELD, protecting her. She’d finally found a family of her own, with Jemma, but now she’d gone and been the one to mess it up. This wasn’t a protocol move, this was her own. Maybe all she’d ever known was the goodbye. Maybe, even without a secret government agency pulling the strings, she just couldn’t have family. Maybe some of those times, it wasn’t the protocol that brought her back to St. Agnes, it was just that the family didn’t want her… She tried to push those thoughts away as she stirred the food, but she couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face either. What have I done?  
Jemma sat in the bar, on her second beer. Far from drunk or even tipsy, the bitter drink had no effect on her tonight. She began to feel so foolish, so remiss. What had she done? She never stormed off in a fight. She never yelled and didn’t talk about it. This wasn’t her. She picked up her phone and dialed Fitz.  
"Hey-" he paused and she could hear some shuffling around, it sounded like a lot of people. "What’s up?" Fitz’s voice was so chipper, not matching Jemma’s mood at all.  
"Fitz, I think I’ve messed up."  
"Oh- no, Jemma, what happened? Hold on, let me just get to my office."  
She forgot about the time change. It was 9 pm here in London, but it was only 3 over in Chicago, where Fitz was busy heading up the new Science Academy.  
"Alright, I’m settled and alone, tell me everything." Jemma told him about the whole argument, about how stupid she felt right now, about how she just wanted to go back and fix things.  
"So go back. Fix things." Fitz said, so matter-of-factly.  
"But— I can’t. I put everything out there now and I think I’ve ruined things."  
"I know this year’s been stressful. You’ve told me about it before. But Jemma, would you trade it? I know our lives haven’t been perfect since this whole mess, but… Would you want it any other way? It’s hell sometimes, but it’s worth it."  
"I miss when things were simpler. I miss our lab, back at sci ops."  
"Oh, Jem. The grass is always greener on the other side. You may think you want to go back, but, well, you can’t. We can’t go back and if you went back, you’d miss it. Every second you’d miss it. I know I do." Fitz’s voice cracked a little. Ever since he’d come out of the coma, he’d lost most of his motor control. He couldn’t run, or fight. He couldn’t be in the field, it wasn’t safe.  
Jemma let Fitz’s words sink in. It was hell- every time May, Trip, Skye or Coulson came back bleeding, with broken limbs, and she had to stitch them up, worried if the injuries were too severe, worried she might make a mistake. It was hell. But every moment after, when she saw their faces feel the relief, when Skye kissed her, when Skye came back from a mission and just held her. All of that, that was… that was worth it. It wasn’t the life she’d imagined for herself. She craved to be in a tiny lab, just working on problems. But she knew Fitz was right. She couldn’t go back now, and if she did she would crave the adventure, the adrenaline. This was her life.  
"I- I have to go." Jemma closed the phone, and started back to the house.  
When she got there she found it smelled… great. The burnt smell from their earlier failure was gone and the house smelled of fresh pesto. She let herself in quietly, finding Skye in the kitchen, furiously preparing food. She could see Skye was crying, or had been. Her eyes were red, swollen.  
"Hello, Skye." Jemma’s voice startled Skye, and she almost dropped the plate of pesto.  
"Jemma." One word. All it took was Skye saying her name, with such hope, such love, and Jemma was back in her arms, kissing her, pulling her in. She held Skye by her waist, pulling her in close. She started crying herself, so she pulled away.  
She looked at the meal, all laid out on the counters.”Did you- Did you make this?”  
"Yes…" Skye was a little phased from the kiss— not what she was expecting— but she straightened herself up. "I understand if you can’t do this. I know it’s not the life you wanted and I’m selfish for pushing it on you and I’m sorry." Skye wasn’t good at sharing emotions, especially when it involved apologizing. She always felt sorry, it was just putting that sorriness into words that tripped her up.  
"No. No. Skye I don’t want to leave you. I am- I was just upset. It was an outburst, a fight. But I want to push through it. I was hot-headed and angry and I wasn’t thinking about what… about what I would lose if I gave up this life."  
"Wait, really?" Skye looked up, she looked hopeful, not like she was about to cry. "Even… after… a fight like that?"  
"Skye, we can fight. We will fight. This won’t be our last one. And I might be driven mad sometimes by things but don’t ever assume that a fight means we’re over. I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you up. You’re mine." She took Skye’s hands. Skye hadn’t had relationships that got past fights, especially big ones. She’d never had relationships where the person dealt with issues instead of just leaving them. She’d never had someone yell at her then apologize either.  
The kiss was soft, apologetic. Sweet, slow. It grew more passionate, and Jemma began grabbing at her, pushing them together. Jemma was usually so placid, clam and serene, slow and ladylike. She never had grabbed Skye like this before. She pushed Skye back, causing her to press up against the wall, kissing her everywhere, biting her neck. Skye was confused at first— she was still trying to process this whole “We can fight and it’s okay” aspect— but Jemma’s touching and kissing soon overrode any rational thought she could have.  
Skye gasped. “Wait, wait- the food…”  
"I don’t care about the food. I care about you. Bed. Now."  
They ended up entangled in each other for hours, the passion unlike anything from before. Skye realized this is what make up sex was— people were right, it was great. She’d never made up from a fight, so she never knew it could be this… pleasurable.  
They went down to the kitchen hours later, Jemma wearing one of Skye’s big flannels (and nothing else), and Skye in her favorite boxers and one of Jemma’s worn Science Bowl t-shirts from high school. They ate the food cold, laughing and kissing.  
Skye felt so good, things felt perfect.  
"Did you mean that, earlier? Am I yours?"  
"Of course. You’re mine. As long as you’re okay with that."  
"I’m more than okay. I’ve never… I’ve never been anyone’s. I’ve never had anyone to call ‘mine.’ Just… things. Like my laptop, and my van." She looked up at Jemma. "Until now."


End file.
